


What Evil Lurks

by Disasteriffic_Kaz



Series: What Evil Beast [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 15:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1475497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Disasteriffic_Kaz/pseuds/Disasteriffic_Kaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's the world coming too when even a simple salt and burn can't be simple anymore? Post 5x05 "Fallen Idols" hurt/limp/awesome!Sam/Dean with a dash of awesome!Cas for taste.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For those readers who live or lived in Rochester NY, as I once did for most of my life, yes I've taken a few liberties. Some of the places I adore have closed in recent years but in my story, they're alive and well again because a good bookstore should never ever close dammit. :D Also, the Subway Strangler is completely fictitious; created solely for this story.

**Do please Review once you've read. :D Every comment and vote of support helps keep me writing. Not to mention if I've pooched anything, someone can always tell me. :P**

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_**CHAPTER 1** _

Night was falling; the last failing rays of the sun filtering in to the subway tunnel through the arched wall and Officer Baker squinted into the dim light as he followed a sound. He'd heard it from outside as he'd walked past on his rounds. He'd know the sound of a can of spray paint anywhere. He stalked down the tunnel and grinned as his prey came in sight. He flicked on his flashlight and enjoyed the look of surprise on the teenage boys face.

"Drop the can you little idiot." Officer Baker shouted. The boy dropped the can to roll across the dirt floor and sprinted away into the darkness beyond. The officer chuckled and played his light along the wall. "Amateur." He groaned seeing the pointless scrawl now left unfinished. He didn't bother chasing him, stopping him was enough. There really weren't any laws preventing people from Tagging the walls down there, in fact some of the graffiti was considered tourist worthy, he just liked watching them run. He kicked the can and started back out of the tunnel. Behind him he heard the boy shout something in almost a scream and smirked.

"Right back atcha, jackass!" Officer Baker shouted over his shoulder, figuring it had been some sort of insult. He never looked back as he left and so didn't see the boys' sneakers being dragged into darkness by a glowing form.

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Dean ran the toothbrush over his teeth again, took a swig from his water bottle and rinsed his mouth, spitting it over the drop off. They'd driven most of the night until sleep had caught up with them. Rather than find a motel as they were in middle of nowhere America, he'd pulled into an overlook and they stretched out in the Impala. He glanced in at the mop of his brother's hair he could see in the back seat; Sam still dead to the world, and looked back out on the view. The Adirondack Mountains spread out before him, rising up across the gorge they sat at the edge of. He looked down over the log railing and quickly took a step back from the edge of what had to be a twenty story drop.

The sound of his stomach growling made him smirk. "Time to wake up, Sammy." Dean turned back to the car and quietly eased the Driver's side door open, stopping just short of the point where it squealed. He reached in, turned up the volume on the radio and then flipped it on. Van Halen ripped out of the speakers loud enough to rattle the windows and Sam shot awake in the backseat, hitting his head on the roof.

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean called cheerily.

"Dude, you suck!" Sam yelled over the music. He dove over the seat and slapped the radio off as Dean climbed behind the wheel.

Dean chuckled. "I'm hungry."

"Get back out I'll make you eat some asphalt." Sam grumped. He slid out of the backseat while Dean laughed and spent a couple minutes just stretching in the brisk morning air.

"Hey! Starving man here!" Dean called.

Sam ignored him and took a moment to admire the stunning view. Living on the road wasn't always easy but sometimes there were perks. He watched the sun begin to edge above the mountains across the gorge, smiling as the first rays streamed down into the valley. Sometimes there were little reminders of why they were still fighting.

"Sam! Get the lead out or you're walking!" Dean shouted and started the car, pressing the gas and making the engine growl

Sam rolled his eyes but turned away from the vista. He opened the door and got into the passenger seat, letting it fall shut behind him. "You know it's going to take at least an hour to get somewhere for food."

"Shut up." Dean glared over at him as he backed out onto the road and started them north again.

An hour and a half later Dean sat back from the table in the little diner and sighed happily, stuffed to bursting with bacon, eggs and hashbrowns. "I feel much better."

"Think you ate half the restaurant." Sam smirked at him and mopped up the last of his eggs with a slice of toast. He went back to reading the local paper he'd picked up while Dean flirted with the waitress and got their coffee refilled. "You up for a job?"

"Whatcha got?" Dean turned his attention back to Sam with a last appreciative look at the waitress' backside as she sashayed away.

"Few missing people, some sightings of apparitions and this is my favorite part…in an area that used to be the stalking ground for a serial killer." Sam looked up and saw the gleam in Dean's eyes.

"Definitely sounds like our sort of thing." Dean nodded. "Probably the ghosts of some pissed off victims taking it out on the locals. Where?"

"A few hours north of here in Rochester." Sam folded the paper and picked up his coffee mug, curling his fingers around the warm mug. It was March but this far north in New York that still meant near winter conditions and it would only get colder once they reached Rochester.

"Been a while since I was up there." Dean drained his coffee. "Dad and I were up here while you were at Stanford." He sat back and looked out the window at the line of big rigs across the street at the gas station. "Friggin water Kelpie in Lake Ontario was snatching sunbathers off the beach." He smirked. "I enjoyed that job."

Sam snorted. "Saving the beach bunnies. Can't imagine why."

"Well let's go find us some ghosts." Dean pushed back from the table and tossed a few bills beside his empty mug. "Dude. Best restaurant in the whole damn country in in Rochester, NY." Dean grinned as they stepped outside. "Nick Tahoe's. Oh Sammy, you're gonna love this."

"When you get that happy about a restaurant I start to worry." Sam chuckled and followed his brother out to the car while Dean rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

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The drive up to Rochester was one of the more enjoyable for Sam. He greedily took in the views of mountains, valleys, vineyards stretching across rolling hills, the Finger Lakes glittering in the late morning sun; it was beautiful country.

"We should come back up here in the fall." Dean smiled out as they passed through Naples. "The Grape Festival here is awesome, wine and pie, Sammy."

"You? Wine?" Sam laughed.

"And pie." Dean grinned. "Grape Pie."

"That sounds…weird." Sam looked out as they passed through streets of aging houses in good repair and thought the town could have walked out of the eighteen hundreds and no one would have noticed. He liked it. He glanced down at the map in his lap. "About an hour more until Rochester."

Dean nodded and gave him a lopsided smile. "Less. I know the back roads."

"Oh no." Sam groaned as Dean reached the edge of town and hit the accelerator, shooting them ahead. Dean's shortcuts always came with tight turns and high speeds. He wished suddenly that he hadn't eaten so much for breakfast.

"So who was this serial killer?" Dean asked, enjoying the look of fear on Sam's face as he tore them around a narrow curve with a steep drop on one side.

"Huh?" Sam looked over from where he'd been staring down the ravine on his side of the car. "Right, uh…they called him the Subway Strangler. He'd grab tourists and taggers in the abandoned subway."

"Taggers?" Dean glanced over.

"Watch the road! Geez. Taggers." Sam decided looking at the map was preferable to looking out the window and watching his life flash by. "Graffiti artists. The subway under Rochester is covered in it from what I read. They even run tours through part of it in the summer."

"Tours through an empty subway. Sounds fun." Dean shook his head, not seeing the draw.

"They only ever found three bodies, all suffocated. The police were never sure how he actually killed them. It was the local press that called him the Strangler." Sam looked up, happy to see they were now on a highway and relaxed. "They never caught him. About ten years ago he just stopped killing." He shrugged. "They do that sometimes, serial killers. Could be in prison for something else or dead or sometimes they get married and try to be normal for a while."

Dean nodded. "Never lasts." Like Sam he'd studied human killers with their Dad since ghosts started out as people, it helped to know how their minds had worked. "Sooner or later they always start again. Wonder what's stirred up the ghosts now though?"

"Could be anything." Sam replied and folded the map away. "I'll have a look at the local papers when we get there. Has to be something." He slid down in the seat and rested his head against the window. The Impala's comforting growl and his full stomach were lulling him to sleep.

Dean smirked over at him as Sam's head rolled into the window and went still. He resisted the urge to crank the radio and startle him again. Instead he hummed softly out of tune to himself and watched the mile markers fly by. For a moment he could almost forget the impending apocalypse, angels, demons and everything that was out to get them. For a moment he could pretend it was five years ago and they were just heading to a simple job with nothing more pressing than how much pool he'd have to hustle to get them a motel. He glanced over at Sam again and sighed. He wished he could rewind time. Dean missed the Sam he used to know, before demon blood and that Ruby bitch; the brother he'd trusted without a second thought. He straightened his shoulders and started humming again. He'd promised Sam he trusted him again, that the past was past. They'd both made mistakes and Sam was right, it was time to set it aside and just trust each other again. Heaven and Hell could kiss his Winchester ass; they were not going to get his brother or him.

_**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-** _

Rochester, New York looked much as Dean remembered it as they drove along Monroe Avenue toward the center of the city. Dean reached over and nudged Sam's shoulder. "We're here, princess."

Sam rolled his head up from the window and pushed his hair out of his eyes. "Where?"

"Rochester, genius." Dean chuckled. "Subway? Ghosts? Any of this ringing a bell?"

"Yeah, yeah." Sam rolled his eyes and took in the small city. He smiled as they passed the Village Green Bookstore and smiled wider as they passed Guttenberg's Antique books and then the Brown Bag Used bookstore. "I think I like this town."

Dean laughed. "Thought you would." He pointed ahead. "There's a motel up here. Decent rooms and pretty much in walking distance of everything."

The multi-story motel loomed ahead of them at the juncture of three roads. An old fashioned, vertical sign hung down the outside of the building in lights. Dean turned left to go around the side and pulled into a half full parking lot at its rear. Sam followed him around the back of the car and pulled his bag out of the trunk. He grabbed the weapons bag as well and tossed that over his shoulder with his laptop.

"What's that smell?" Sam asked suddenly, aware of an acrid odor on the wind.

"Kodak plant over that way." Dean waved beyond the hotel. "Don't worry. Doesn't get much worse than that." He led the way around the building back to the front, nodding at the few passersby who smiled genially at them. The breeze was cold, dropping the temperature from somewhere near fifty to more like forty and Dean pulled his jacket tighter against the chill.

"I want maps of the abandoned subway before we go down there." Sam told him as they stepped inside the Motel's front door. "Might help us figure out where the Strangler's victims' bodies are."

"You hit up the town hall for research and I'll go drop by the local P.D. See if they've got anything new." Dean smiled. "They had some nice lookin' cops here back in the day."

Sam rolled his eyes. "One track mind much?"

"Man's gotta have his priorities." Dean retorted and stepped up to the desk to get them a room.

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Sam leaned back from the computer screen and looked around, surprised to find he was now the only person in the record's room. There'd been several people when he'd started but that had been two hours ago. He rubbed the strain from his eyes and closed the articles he'd been reading; more information on the Strangler. Though three bodies had been found authorities had speculated there might have been as many as a dozen victims. Sam hoped the Strangler had kept all his victims in one place down in the tunnels or they'd be looking for years to locate them all.

"Find everything you need?"

Sam startled at the voice behind him and looked up ruefully at the elderly receptionist who'd helped him earlier.

"Yeah. Sorry. Thank you." He picked up the roll of blueprints beside the monitor, detailed maps of the subway tunnels and stood.

"Oh no problem." The old man smiled. "Get a quite a few requests for those in the summer. You're the second this week though."

Sam stopped and looked back at him. "The second? Someone else asked for these? Do you remember who?"

"Oh younger guy, lot scruffier than you." He chuckled. "Wasn't near as nice though."

"Uh, thanks." Sam smiled and left. He wondered at the coincidence and decided to mention it to Dean. They might not be the only Hunters in town looking to lay the ghosts to rest and if that were the case…He shook his head as he headed back upstairs and stepped outside into the late afternoon sun. Beyond the well-tended lawn of the Town hall stood the Impala. He chuckled as Dean got out and waved at him. He must have just pulled up. Sam waved back and strode down the steps to him.

"Find everything?" Dean asked as he got to the car.

"Yeah and something else." Sam waved the blueprints. "I'm not the first person to ask for these this week."

Dean's face darkened with worry. Now that there were other Hunters who knew some of the particulars of the coming apocalypse, specifically that Sam was in some way responsible, they had been doing their best to avoid them and any trouble.

"It's ok, Dean." Sam smiled. "We don't know that it's another Hunter and even if it is, people have died…are dying. We do the job."

"Right." Dean nodded but couldn't squash the worry. "I'll call Bobby. See if he's heard anything about another Hunter being up here."

"Good idea. Could just be a tourist." Sam opened the door and tossed the blueprints inside the car. "No reason to borrow trouble."

"Come on. Let's get a drink and have a look at those maps." Dean climbed back in the car and did his best to swallow the fear.

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"Well, it's not the maze I was afraid it was going to be." Dean said as he looked over the map of the disused Subway beneath the city. There weren't near as many tunnels as he thought there'd be though they did span the length of the city, miles of them with branches and offshoots to what had once been booming war time business according to Sam back when the Subway was in use. "What's this?"

"That means the section is partially flooded." Sam smiled. "It runs underneath the river at one point." He pointed to it. "According to this it doesn't get more than a few feet deep, waist height in a couple places."

"That's reassuring." Dean groaned.

"This looks like a good place to start." Sam pointed to the Eastern end of the Subway. "It's an open air entrance. The station's long gone but the tunnel's open. We can start there and work our way North. What'd the locals have to say?"

Dean leaned back and took a swallow of his beer. "They think it's a copycat." He rolled his eyes. "Never mind the people who've seen freakin ghosts."

"You know they never believe that stuff." Sam smirked. "That's our job anyway."

"Works for me. They just get in the way." Dean smiled. "So we'll go in tonight. Maybe we'll get lucky and find the bodies first thing."

Sam snorted a laugh. "When do we ever get that lucky?"

Dean said nothing, keeping his thoughts on their general luck lately to himself.

"We'd better load up on the salt and lighter fluid. The authorities were convinced the Strangler had a hell of a lot more than just three victims but they never found any remains."

"Awesome." Dean emptied his beer with a grimace. "Come on. Let's go back to the hotel and get our gear ready."

Sam nodded and folded away the blueprints. He tucked them in the bag with his laptop, stood and thumped into a man behind him. "Sorry."

"Yeah you should be, Winchester." The man growled.

Sam looked down surprised and then took a step back, startled. "I remember you."

"Sammy? Problem?" Dean was suddenly at his side and didn't like the look of the guy getting way too up close with his brother.

"Lemme think. Last time I saw you Sam, you had a mouth full of demon blood." The man smiled dangerously. "You miss it yet, freak?"

"Tim." Sam glared at him and tried to ignore the way his brother had flinched at his words. "Where's your partner? You had help last time."

"Dead." Tim said savagely and took a step into Sam's personal space again. "Like you should be."

Dean shook himself. He could chew Sam out later, right now he needed to enforce on someone that threatening his brother was not ok. "Hey, jackass." Dean stepped closer but had no time to react as Sam swung his fist into Tim's face and dropped him to the floor. He'd heard the man's nose crunch and didn't envy him the pain.

"Stay the hell away from me." Sam told him. "Or you won't walk away."

"Go to hell, Winchester!" Tim tried to shout but his voice was muffled by his hand and his broken nose.

"Come on." Sam shouldered his bag and strode quickly out of the bar, ignoring the few people looking on in shock. The moment he'd seen Tim's face he'd been back in that bar, held down and struggling on the floor while they force fed him demon blood in some wacked plan to avenge their friends' death. He bared his teeth and almost went back inside to finish the job. Worse than the memory though was the look of strain on Dean's face and the way he was not looking at him.

"Dean." Sam watched him round the car. "It's not what you think."

"Whatever. Forget it." Dean said dismissively and got behind the wheel. So Sam had fallen off the wagon and neglected to mention it. He couldn't understand why he was so surprised; Sam had become an expert at keeping secrets from him, something he'd once never been able to do. "Let's go."

Sam stood for a moment staring at the car. He swallowed the hurt Dean's words had caused and got inside. He said nothing on the way back to the hotel but the hurt was burning a hole in him, a hole quickly being filled with anger at Dean once again jumping to a conclusion about him. He kept his silence as they parked and got out; said nothing as they strode to the elevator and headed up to their room. Dean's stiff back lead the way and seemed to silently accuse him. Sam shut the hotel room door behind them and clenched his fists. This time he was not going to be blamed, not when there was nothing he could have done.

"Dean, dammit. I didn't have a choice." Sam turned and said heatedly.

"You always have a choice, Sam." Dean replied, his voice tired and he was; tired of the constant fight to keep Sam on the damn straight path when he seemed determined to screw up. Obviously he hadn't learned a damn thing. He watched in surprise as Sam's face reddened, his arms shaking with his fists clenched. It wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting.

"How about when the bastards take a hostage? When they hold you down and force it down your damn throat because they want you to be their little pet demon killer?" Sam shouted, seeing red. "Do I have a choice then, Dean?" He heaved for air against the rage. The stunned look on his brother's face was enough to make him swallow it back. He hadn't meant to lose his temper. He took a few deep breaths and consciously unclenched his fists. "I didn't swallow it, if that matters. I spit it in their faces." He closed his eyes. "I need some air." The truth was he didn't want to look at Dean right then. He needed a few minutes. Sam didn't wait for him to say anything. He pulled open the door and slammed it shut behind him.

Dean watched him leave in mute shock. That had been the last thing he'd expected and a great tide of rage rose up in him, helplessly picturing what had been done to Sam while he'd been absent. "Dammit." He groaned and turned, kicking the empty chair to fly across the room. He'd promised to trust Sam again, to be equals and here he was at the first test…jumping wrong. "Ok. I suck."

Dean headed for the door. He had the keys still so he knew Sam would be walking. He needed to fix this. He went out into the hall and hit the elevator, waiting for it to come back up and decided he also needed to have a little quality time with Tim the walking dead man. He cussed at the too slow elevator and ran for the stairs instead. He didn't want Sam getting away from him while he was this angry. Dean dashed down the three flights of stairs and out into the lobby.

"Hey, you see a tall guy come through here?" Dean asked the desk clerk.

"Yeah. He had to duck under the door." The clerk chuckled and pointed toward the street entrance.

"Thanks." Dean ran for the door and outside. Luck was with him and he saw Sam across the street heading toward the bookstores they had passed coming in no doubt. "Sam!" Dean called and jogged across the street between traffic. "Sam, come on!" He called when Sam's stride hitched but he didn't stop or turn around. "Ok he's really pissed." Dean muttered and figured he deserved it.

"Sam! Sam, I'm s…" Dean froze a mere twenty feet behind him on the sidewalk as his eyes caught on a car coming toward them. The driver's side window was rolled down and the muzzle of a gun peeked out. "SAM!" His shout broke his paralysis and Dean sprinted toward him as the dark sedan neared. It drove into the shadow of a building and Dean could suddenly see the driver; Tim.

"Sam, look out!" Dean yelled and tackled his little brother to the pavement as shots rang out in the early evening air.

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_To Be Continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

_**CHAPTER 2** _

Sam heard Dean shout and then grunted as he was tackled from behind. He saw the sidewalk coming up to meet him and closed his eyes before his head cracked loudly into it. Stars blasted across his vision, darkness threatening to suck him under as gun shots rang out above him.

Dean waited until the car and Tim had sped off into the distance before he crawled off his brother. Sam was lying far too still for his liking and panic dropped into Dean's stomach like a weight. He rolled Sam quickly to his back.

"Sam! Are you hit? Are you hit?" Dean's frantic voice pulled Sam back from the edge of unconsciousness.

He felt Dean checking him, hands running along arms and legs, chest, turning him on his side to check his back. "M'not hit." Sam managed finally. What he was, was the lucky recipient of a shiny new concussion if his double vision was anything to go by. "Think I hit my head."

"Crap. Sorry." Dean laid him back and took a look at the raw, red knot beginning to form above Sam's left eye. "Come on. Gotta get you up." Dean pulled on his arms and sat him up. He wanted them out of there before the cops showed. This was not the kind of attention they needed.

"N…no. Wait." Sam groaned as the sudden movement made his stomach roll and his head feel like it was going to split apart. His head dropped forward onto Dean's shoulder and he worked at just breathing without puking.

"When I find that son of a bitch, he's dead." Dean promised darkly. People were beginning to gather, having heard the shots and were starting to look interestedly around. "We gotta move. Now. Just hang on to me." He tugged Sam to his feet with him and wrapped an arm around his waist as he swayed. "Try not to look so much like you're gonna fall over."

Sam snorted softly but didn't raise his head. "Am about to fall over." A siren blared in the distance. "We gotta…move."

"We're going." Dean pulled him into a walk back toward the motel and ignored the sporadic questions from people as they arrived and looked about. "Didn't see a thing. Heard it though." He told one man who asked. "Naw, he didn't see a thing. He's wasted." Dean hitched Sam a little higher on his shoulder, relieved that the onlooker accepted his ploy and left them.

"Rather be drunk." Sam groaned again and had to keep a hand on his head to hold it in place.

"I'm sorry, Sam." Dean said as they crossed the street. "I was coming to tell you. I uh…I was a…"

"Jerk." Sam finished for him and smiled as Dean chuckled.

"Bitch." Dean gave the familiar reply and felt something indefinable settle back into place.

"Tim's not walking away from this one." Dean warned him. Sam nodded slowly in agreement. It wasn't so much that Tim had shot at him but he'd done it on an open street where anyone could have been hurt or killed. That was unforgiveable for Sam.

"What the hell's going on out there?" The desk clerk asked as the brother's stumbled in.

"Car backfire or something." Dean said and smiled. "Tripped and smacked his head on a car." He explained as the clerk stared at Sam.

"Guess the grounds' kinda hard to see from way up there." The clerk said with a smirk and went back to the desk.

"Damn." Dean laughed and hit the elevator button. "I like that guy."

"S'jerk too." Sam scowled.

"In you go." Dean pulled him into the elevator and sighed in relief when the doors closed on them.

Once in their room, Sam required little coaxing to lay on the far bed and settled his pounding head into the pillow with a groan. "Just gimme an hour." He muttered. "I'll be good to go for tonight…in an hour."

"Yeah, we'll see." Dean waited until he was sure Sam had drifted off before dropping onto his own bed with shaking legs. Being killed by the supernatural was an ever present danger and one they accepted but being wasted by one idiot human with an axe to grind… "People suck." He dug his phone out of his pocket and went into the bathroom to call Bobby.

"What?" Came Bobby's gruff reply after only the second ring and Dean smiled. "What'd you two idjits get into now?"

"Bobby, we got a problem." Dean quickly told the older Hunter about Tim and what had happened with Sam both today and while they were separated.

"That snake-eyed son of a bitch!" Bobby yelled. "Where is he? You kill him yet?"

Dean grinned at the question and the knowledge that Bobby didn't bat an eye about it if it meant protecting him or his brother. "No. He sped off. I couldn't chase him, not with Sam…"

"How is the kid? His head still in one piece?" Bobby interrupted and Dean rolled his eyes.

"He's fine. Sleeping it off as we speak." Dean assured him.

"What are you up there for anyway?" Bobby sounded interested now.

"Job. Some ghosts ganking people in an abandoned subway." Dean nodded when Bobby cursed. "Victims of a serial killer too so finding the bodies is gonna be fun."

"Balls. Those psychos are smart about hiding the corpses too." Bobby sighed. "You need any help you call me."

"We will." Dean said firmly. "You keep an eye out for our soon to be dead man."

"Oh he aint getting' by me." Bobby said darkly and then changed his tone. "So, you boys…you ok? You know, with each other?" He sounded so uncomfortable asking Dean chuckled.

"We're fine, Bobby." Dean stuck his head out to check on Sam, glad he was still asleep. "Nothin' a few beers won't fix."

"Go do somethin' useful then. You idjits watch out for each other." Bobby said gruffly and hung up.

"Always." Dean said to the silent phone and tucked it away. He went back out and to his brother, laying a hand along his neck to check his pulse. Satisfied with the steady beat he pulled the weapons bag out from under his own bed and set about preparing for the night's hunt.

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"You sure you're up for this?" Dean glanced over at Sam as they drove and got a disgusted look in return.

"I'm fine, Dean. It's just a headache." Sam rubbed at the knot on his forehead. "Hey, look over there?" He pointed out the window suddenly and Dean followed his finger. A large sign stood above a chainlink fence proclaiming it to be a renovation site. Beneath it lay a smaller sign, half fallen from its posts that read 'old site of the Rochester Subway – West entrance'.

"What do you wanna bet that's what stirred up the ghosts?" Sam asked as the passed the site. "If they've started collapsing parts of the old tunnel system."

"Hell of a coincidence." Dean nodded. Darkness had fallen not long ago; it came early still this far north at this time of year. He couldn't help but peer in at the drivers of every dark sedan that passed them, nerves taut for a reappearance of Tim. His gut told him the idiot was long gone but he refused to relax. You never knew when stupid would win someone over.

"Turn right here." Sam broke into his thoughts. "The East entrance is just beyond that building."

Dean followed his directions and pulled around the dilapidated two story building. Beyond it was a small dirt parking lot and past that the dark maw of a tunnel entrance. He parked beyond the single street lamp and got out.

"Well, that's not ominous at all." Dean commented with a smirk as he stared at the entrance before going to the trunk. They each took a bag, tossing them over their shoulders and headed for the tunnel. Dean hefted his shotgun and clicked on his flashlight. Sam followed at his back as they stepped into darkness.

"There used to be an actual station up here." Sam said softly and heard his voice echo in the tunnel. "They demolished it a few years back."

"So, you got a favorite spot for where the bodies might be?" Dean played his light over the walls, raising his brows at some of the inventive, colorful graffiti scrawled everywhere. He hopped over one of the rails still mounted in the floor and was silently thankful power no longer ran to the third rail as he watched Sam step on it before crossing the tunnel.

Sam shrugged. "They searched the subway more than once back when the Strangler was active. Never found anything." He glanced over at his brother. "Wherever they are, they're well hidden."

"We could always ask." Dean said as his breath suddenly misted out in front of him.

"That didn't take long." Sam raised his own shotgun and waited, watching the tunnel behind them as Dean watched ahead. A shape began to appear further into the tunnel and both men focused their lights on the spot. "Hello?" Sam said and shrugged when Dean looked at him. "What? You said we should try asking."

Dean snorted. "Well go on, ghost whisperer. Amaze me."

The figure became that of a young woman. Long, dark hair flowed down her shoulders; a ragged skirt brushed the floor and empty eyes stared at them. "We're here to help you." Sam took a tentative step toward her. "We want to lay you to rest." She tilted her head at him but made no sound. "We need you to show us where…where your body is." Sam smiled kindly. "Can you show me where you're buried?"

"Well she's not trying to kill us yet." Dean whispered, nerves singing with tension.

The woman studied them for a moment and then turned, drifting slowly further into the subway tunnel. "I think it worked." Sam said, surprised. "Come on, let's follow her."

Dean shook his head and went quickly after his brother. "Not one of your better ideas."

"It was your idea." Sam reminded him and grinned at him over his shoulder.

"Don't remind me. Hey, Casper's leaving us behind." He nodded toward the spirit as she drifted out of sight around a corner.

Sam sped up his pace and jogged down the tunnel with Dean at his side. He kept his light low, running between the rails and caught sight of her again as he rounded the bend. "We're gonna lose her." He lengthened his stride to try and keep her in sight and could hear Dean pounding along at his back. They chased her down darkened tunnels for over a mile, Sam was sure as the took one turn after another. Sam slid to a stop and groaned.

"Aw come on." Dean ran up beside him, panting for breath and threw his arms out. "She couldn't pick a friggin dry path?" Ahead of them was one of the flooded sections of the subway. The water sparkled and glistened in the light from their flashlights. Girders rose up here and there and the old rails at their feet ran down beneath the dark surface and vanished.

"There she is." Sam pointed to the woman's ghost as she reappeared and then vanished around another corner. "Well, come on." He waded into the water and shivered. "Crap. It's freezing."

Dean shined his light into the tunnel and smirked. "Should look before you leap, Sammy." He edged along one wall and made a short jump to an aging piece of scaffolding. The tunnel widened beyond the tunnel and looked like it had once been some sort of underground station.

"You're gonna have to get wet at some point." Sam told him and chuckled as Dean balanced precariously on the beam, walking quickly across. He turned his light into the space ahead and nodded. The scaffolding didn't cross the whole way as he thought.

"Screw that." Dean watched his brother shivering, knee deep in the dark water. "I'll find a way across." Unlike the rest of the tunnels, their voices didn't echo as the sound was absorbed by the water. A steady drip-drip of water accompanied them in the darkness, broken only by Sam's chattering teeth and Dean's curses as he nearly fell in.

Sam wrapped one arm around himself in an effort to stay warm as the water climbed from his knees to his thighs. He should have realized, it being only April, that it wasn't too long ago these waters would have been frozen or nearly so. The ghost had disappeared again. He hoped she'd pop back up once they were out of the flooded section.

"Oh crap." Dean teetered and dropped to one knee to grab hold of the beam he was balanced on as it swayed slightly. "Shut up." He muttered as he heard Sam laugh.

"Hey, I need the c-comic relief to keep me w-warm." Sam said through chattering teeth. He gasped and froze. "Dean?"

"What?" Dean's head whipped up. He heard a tone of worry in his voice.

"Something brushed my leg." Sam told him. He shined his light on the water and then thrust it beneath the surface, trying to see something.

"Get over here." Dean told him and moved toward a small platform. It was canted slightly but would do. He walked onto it, satisfied it would take their weight.

Sam backed quickly toward his brother and then stopped again, flailing as his left leg was brushed out from under him. He maintained his balance barely and put the light under the water again. "What the hell is in here?"

"Big ass fish with a taste for sasquatch." Dean said, trying to lighten the tension choking him. "Get your ass over here."

Sam turned and waded quickly toward him. He reached an arm to his brother as the platform Dean stood on suddenly shifted. "Dean!" The platform shook again as though something had struck it and Dean was toppled into the water. "Dammit!" Sam ducked underneath the beam Dean had been walking on and grabbed his brother's arm as he went beneath the water. Sam pulled him and managed to get his head up.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean shouted as he gasped in a breath. "It's freezing!"

"No kidding?" Sam pulled until Dean was standing. "Ok, so…trap then?"

"That ghost bitch played us." Dean nodded. He raised his shotgun and turned it until water poured out of the barrel. "If she ruined my favorite shotgun…"

Sam handed Dean his flashlight. "Hang on." He stepped away and bent to where he could see Dean's light gleaming faintly beneath the water. "Dibs on a hot shower." He said as he dove his arm beneath the surface. The water lapped at his chest and drove the cold further into him. Sam wrapped his hand around the flashlight. "Got it." He started to pull it up and then shouted in surprise as something wrapped around his arm and pulled. His head was dragged under the water as his legs went out from under him. He caught flashes of the thing holding him, a glowing figure beneath the surface as the beam from the flashlight danced over and through it. The frigid waters filled his nose and made his skin burn. He felt Dean's hand close on the back of his belt and tug. A ghostly hand shot forward and took him by the front of the neck, squeezing. Distantly he was amused as the crushing grip on his throat kept him from breathing in the freezing water. He did the only thing he could think of and brought the shotgun barrel up, hoping it would fire in the water as he squeezed the trigger.

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_To Be Continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

_**CHAPTER 3** _

"Sam!" Dean shouted as his brother's head was suddenly pulled under the water, the dark liquid closing over his back in a rush. "No way." Dean thrust his hand out and caught the back of Sam's belt. He wrapped his fingers around the leather and pulled, trying to bring him up but something was holding him down. "Sammy!"

His breathed misted out ahead of him. Dean looked up and gasped, seeing several more spirits hovering a few meters away as he fought to hold on to Sam. There was an explosion in the water beside him and Sam came up in a rush, gasping for air between lips gone blue with cold.

"Sam!" Dean wrapped an arm around his waist to hold him up when he would have sunk back down.

"Gun…worked." Sam panted. "Ghost…in the water."

"We're outta here." Dean leveled his shotgun at the nearest spirit, said a silent plea and pulled the trigger. He grinned as it fired, rock salt making the ghost ahead of them vanish with a scream.

Sam kept his shotgun aimed at the water, wary of another sneak attack and did his best to stay even with his brother. He was all too aware that the arm around his waist was the only thing keeping him standing as he gasped still to make up the difference in lost oxygen. His throat burned from the ghostly tight grip and he was reminded of the Subway Strangler.

Dean backed them away from where they'd entered as six spirits clearly stood outlined in the tunnel. Instead he pointed them deeper into the subway and trusted that Sam would remember another way out from his study of the blueprints. "You good?" He asked and watched Sam's dripping, shaggy hair nod twice as he wheezed.

Sam felt the water falling lower on his legs and managed finally to take some of his own weight as they edged up a ramp, out of the water and into another subway tunnel. He growled as the barrel of his shotgun trembled in time with his shivering and fought to steady it. He fired as another spirit shot toward them, banishing it in a cloud of mist and rock salt. Sam was surprised to feel the weight of the sodden bag still hanging from his shoulder, surprised it hadn't been lost in the water and he still had a death grip on Dean's flashlight; he'd been unwilling to relinquish either under the dark water.

Dean allowed himself to take a breath as they rounded a curve and the spirits didn't follow. He leaned Sam up against the wall of the tunnel and shined his flashlight at him. "How you doing?"

Sam nodded. He was breathing easier finally; all he wished for now was warmth. "I'm good just…freezing my ass off."

Dean chuckled. "Join the club." He tipped his brother's chin up and his face darkened; a ring of bruises was slowly appearing above his collar in the cold whitened skin.

"It's nothing, Dean." Sam smiled. "I shot the bastard."

"Good." Dean set his flashlight on a small ledge beside Sam's head and stripped off his water-logged jacket. He did his best to wring it out, leaving a puddle at his feet. Sam was doing the same with his shotgun tucked under his arm.

"We should get out of here." Sam told him and worked at quelling the tremors rocking him from his time in the freezing water. "Come back warm and dry. We'll end up hypothermic like this."

"Next time no following the damn ghost." Dean said ruefully. "Can't believe you listened to me."

Sam laughed softly and shrugged back into his jacket. "Most of the time I don't."

"Such a pain in my ass. Hope you know another way out of here that doesn't involve swimming with the dead." Dean retrieved his flashlight and saw Sam nod.

"If we're where I think we are, another hundred yards or so down this tunnel there should be an offshoot." Sam closed his eyes to picture the map in his head. "If we take that, keep right we should come up near the Kodak plant."

"Nice walk back to the car from there." Dean shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. "Alright, come on. No time like the present."

They started down the tunnel. Sam stayed at Dean's back and made sure nothing crept up on them from behind. He could feel the beginnings of hypothermia; his fingers and toes going numb, the trembling quickly becoming a shaking and his flashlight beam stuttered across the tunnel because of it. His only consolation was the equally jittery beam from Dean's light. They needed to get warm and soon.

"So, way m-more than three victims." Dean said through chattering teeth as they passed along the darkened tunnel. The silence was making his teeth itch.

Sam snorted. "Clearly." His expression darkened. "One of those ghosts was barely a teenager. I hope he's dead, the Strangler, wherever he went. That's the turn there."

Dean nodded and shined his light around the corner. "Looks clear." He led the way into the tunnel. It was far smaller, the ceiling lower and doors long gone to rot opened on small store rooms empty of anything but the skitter of rats. As they passed further down the tunnel Dean squinted and realized light was beginning to filter in from somewhere ahead. "You see that?"

"Moonlight." Sam stepped up beside him and nodded. "The next section of tunnel on the map was called the Airway I think. I thought they were just being creative."

The moonlight grew as they walked and their cramped tunnel soon gave way to a wider passage; solid wall on one side and arched windows on the other empty of glass and open to the night. The cold, still winter air flowed into the passage making them both shiver in their wet clothes.

"Nice." Sam smiled. He climbed up into one of the windows and looked out. "Don't think we're more than ten minutes from the car here."

"Well get your ass out of the way already." Dean hugged his sodden clothes tighter against the chill.

Sam smirked and climbed out of the window onto the embankment outside it. He climbed up toward the top, the ground crumbling beneath his hands. He stood as he reached the top and only had time to flinch as he looked up and saw a boot coming for his head.

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Sam woke all at once, jerking up in confusion. "Dean!" He remembered the water, the ghosts, climbing out of the tunnel and then…he raised a hand to his head and grimaced as his fingers came away bloody. "Dean?" He looked around and found himself lying at the bottom of the embankment against the outside of the tunnel wall. He pushed himself up and fell back as his head swam with pain and dizziness. One blow to the head too many in a day, he thought to himself. He groaned and managed his knees but even that proved too much as he gagged and threw up what little was still in his stomach. He fell back onto the cold earth and shivered. He'd been unconscious long enough for his clothes to dry in a frigid cocoon around him.

"Dammit." Sam groaned and held his swimming head. His brother was missing, that much he knew. Dean would never leave him unprotected, not willingly. The fear of what may be happening to his brother drove him to his knees again only to end up doubled over as the pain stabbed into his skull. "Not now." He growled and tried to pull himself up using the frame of the arch. He made it to his feet with the world spinning about him and had to slide slowly back to the ground. "Dean." He breathed the name and despised his inability to stand.

Sam fumbled in his pockets and pulled out his cell phone. His fingers shook, the phone dropping into the earth at his knees. He picked it back up and then stopped, trying to order his scrambled thoughts. Bobby was more than two days away, the same for Ellen or anyone else who might help him and he knew Dean needed him now. Inspiration struck him and he flipped the phone open. The screen blurred in his vision and he scrolled slowly through the contacts until he found the one Dean had entered into the phone before putting it to his ear and praying he would answer.

"Um…hello?"

The deep voice made Sam gasp in relief. "Castiel. Help, please…I need your help. Dean needs your help."

"Sam?" Castiel was new to the emotions of humans but he could clearly hear the desperation in the young man's voice. "Tell me where you are." The Enochian sigils he had carved into their ribs protected them but sometimes they were as much a hindrance as a help.

"Rochester, New York." Sam closed his eyes, trying to stop the spinning. "The abandoned subway about a half mile from the East entrance. Cas…"

"Sam." Castiel's voice at his elbow startled him badly and he opened his eyes to find the Angel standing beside him.

Sam let the phone drop. "Help."

"What has happened?" Castiel took Sam's shoulder and peered at the blood still trickling from a wound just above his hairline. "You don't look well."

Sam grimaced as the Angel shifted his hair to see the wound better. "Ghosts in the subway but…I was climbing out and…there was someone." Sam dropped his head and grasped the man's arm. "When I woke up Dean was gone. Cas we have to find him now. He's in there somewhere I know it."

"Then we'll find him." Castiel said firmly. He agonized for a moment at not being able to simply heal him of his injuries as he once could. Each day he weakened a little more. "Can you stand?"

"With help." Sam nodded carefully and tried to moan aloud as the Angel pulled him quickly to his feet. "Wait…wait." He gasped as his vision tunneled in to blackness. He heard Castiel calling his name and argued with himself to stay conscious. After what seemed like an eternity he got both eyes open and suffered a moment of embarrassment to find himself being held on his feet by the Angel, his head resting on his shoulder.

"Sorry." Sam took his own weight, got his head up. "I'm ok."

"No. You're not." Castiel frowned at him.

"I will be." Sam gestured toward the passage. "Dean doesn't have time for me to go have a lay down. We need to find him."

"Very well." Castiel turned and helped Sam back through the window.

"Shotgun." Sam pointed back out to the ground as his gun. "For the ghosts." Castiel nodded and retrieved it before he climbed through the open arch. Sam didn't argue when the Angel slid one of his arms over his shoulders. "That way." Sam pointed toward the tunnel leading back to the subway.

"How do you know?" Castiel studied the darkened passageway and could see nothing to indicate where Dean had gone.

"Footprints." Sam pointed to the smudges in the dirt and dust on the passage floor clear in the moonlight. "There's three sets now." He didn't mention that the area in front of the windows looked as though a fight had taken place and if he knew his brother, it had. That Dean had obviously lost filled him with dread.

Castiel took note of the tracks and started them back down the tunnel, Sam unsteady at his side.

"Did you…did you find him yet?" Sam asked suddenly. "God?"

"No." Castiel felt a sharp emotion rush through him and thought it might be pain. He studied it for a moment and then set it aside. "I am still looking. I will find him."

Sam said nothing to that. He couldn't imagine that a God who would allow the apocalypse to start in the first place would suddenly show up to stop it. He did miss the familiar sight of the amulet on his brother's chest. It bothered him to not see it there, as though some fundamental part of him was missing. He realized suddenly his head had fallen, that he was barely moving his legs.

"Cas." Sam mumbled.

"Sam?" Castiel looked down at the soft murmur of his name. He was all but carrying the youngest Winchester and grunted as he suddenly went lax. "Sam." The Angel lowered him to the floor of the tunnel and felt concern wash over him as he tried to rouse the unconscious man.

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"Wake up, sunshine."

The voice in Dean's ear startled his eyes open. He tried to move and found he was bound tightly to a chair. "What the hell's going on?" He looked down to see rows of copper wire wrapped around his chest.

"About time you joined the party."

Dean glared up as a man walked around where he could see him. He was older, in his fifties perhaps and very much alive. He was bald with cold blue eyes that made Dean's skin crawl as he looked at him. "Who the hell are you?"

The man smiled. "An artist my son. An artist." He leaned in to Dean and adjusted some of the wires around his chest. "It has been a while so, let's have a test run shall we?"

Dean growled and struggled against the bonds holding him as the man walked away again. He was firmly tied down, barely able to even move his hands. He was still in the subway somewhere, that much was clear by the glare of the bare electric bulb burning above his head. It was a small room. He could see the dusty rails of the subway through the open door.

"What the hell do you want?" Dean demanded and twisted his head, trying to see his captor.

"Nothing." The man replied calmly.

Dean heard him flip a switch and jerked back in his restraints as electricity poured through him. He felt it burning along his arms and legs, making him twitch and the ropes bite into his flesh. He tried to gasp in a breath and shout and couldn't. His chest felt as though something impossibly heavy sat upon it, preventing him from taking a breath. He fought, his mouth opening and closing like a landed fish as he tried in vain to breathe. The pain was a huge thing, radiating out from his chest. Black spots began to dance along his vision and just as he thought he was done for the pain stopped. The current died and he dropped his head forward heaving great gales of air into starving lungs.

"Oh that went well!" The man stalked back around in front of him and knelt. "I was afraid I'd lost my touch." He grinned at Dean. "It's an interesting way to go. See, the current isn't strong enough to kill you but by wrapping the wires around your chest…" He twitched a couple of the copper wires higher and smiled. "The continuous current will force your chest muscles to contract and prevent you from taking a breath." He leaned in and tapped Dean's nose playfully. "Any breath at all. I'm told it's an excruciating way to suffocate. How did it feel?"

"Strangler." Dean gasped, realization hitting my like a freight train. "You're…the Subway Strangler."

"Bravo. Got it in one." The man grinned. "It is rewarding to be recognized for one's work even after so long. Mind you, that name was never quite accurate. It would have been more accurate to call me the Subway Suffocator but…I suppose that doesn't have the same ring to it."

"Why?" Dean said in a voice gone hoarse. "Why now?"

"Why am I back?" The man asked and waited for Dean's nod. "They're planning on renovating the tunnels. I don't think I want Rochester's finest…" He laughed and made air quotes with his fingers. "To find my children just yet."

"Children?" Dean managed to raise his head again finally though the burning in his chest had yet to leave him.

"Every artist considers his work to be his children." The man bowed and grinned again. "You should be honored I've decided to add you to my collection. I _was_ going to take the other one." He sighed and shook his head. "Alas he was simply too big, too heavy for me to carry. I'm not as spry as I used to be you know."

Dean was never more glad in his life that his little brother had grown into a giant.

"Even getting _you_ here was a strain." He stretched, resting a hand at the small of his back. "I'll need a chiropractor after this." He chuckled. "So, let's make this last as long as we can, hmm?"

Dean renewed his efforts to free himself as the Strangler walked out of his line of sight again. He knew what was coming now. "You son of a bitch!" He shouted. "I'm gonna enjoy killing your ass, you sick twist!"

The Strangler chuckled from behind him. "I'm afraid my death won't be on the menu today. Now, deep breath." He flipped the switch on the modified car battery he'd set up and watched cheerfully as his newest toy jerked and strained in his bonds, head arched back and frantic eyes staring at the ceiling as he fought and failed to breathe. "That's my boy."

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_To Be Continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

_**CHAPTER 4** _

Sam was floating. He felt as though he were floating and opened his eyes as he felt himself come to rest on a soft surface. He was lying on a beach, waves rolling gently in in front of him and stretched out on a comfortable beach chair. He sat up in surprise and looked over to find Lucifer beside him in another chair. The Devil raised a ridiculous coconut drink, complete with umbrella and smiled at him.

"Sammy. You do have a knack for getting yourself in trouble." Lucifer took a sip from the drink and hummed appreciatively. "You should try this. It's actually quite good."

Sam felt a drink appear in his hand and looked down at the coconut. He tossed it into the sand. "What are you doing here?" Sam glared at him. "Where am I?" He hoped his anger would mask the fear running through him.

"Oh you're still in whatever dank, dark tunnel you were in." Lucifer shrugged. "Since you're taking a nap I thought I'd check in on you. I do care about you, Sam. You understand that, don't you?" The Devil smiled sincerely at him. "You're very important to me."

"Get out of my head and send me back!" Sam clambered out of the chair and stood over him, fists clenched and wondered if he could hurt the Devil in his dreams.

"Sam. You shouldn't be so angry with me." Lucifer smiled gently. "I'm really not the monster they make me out to be. They betrayed me Sam. Not the other way around. All I wanted…"

"I don't care what you wanted. Get out of my head!" Sam leaned in and aimed a punch at his face. He stumbled when the Devil simply wasn't there anymore, the chair empty.

"Temper, temper, Sam." Lucifer's voice came from behind him and Sam jerked away from the hands on his shoulders. "You do need to go back now. Your brother needs you. I do care, Sammy and because I care, what matters to you matters to me and right now…I think your brother could use your help." He reached out and laid a hand on Sam's temple before he could move away. "Well talk again, Sammy. Oh, and follow the rails. Back you go."

Sam jerked awake on a gasp. Castiel's impossibly blue eyes watched him from inches away, his hands holding his arms in a firm grasp. "Sam? Are you well?"

"Cas." Sam stared in confusion around the tunnel before settling on the Angel once more.

"You were…dreaming I think." Castiel frowned down at him. He raised a hand to Sam's temple, his frown deepening. "The wound on your head has healed. Sam, how has this happened? Tell me?"

"Dean!" Sam jerked to his feet in a rush. "He needs us."

"Sam, this is important!" Castiel took his arm again, trying to hold his attention.

"No, It's not. We've gotta find Dean, Cas. Now." Sam tried to walk away but the Angels' grip on his arm was steely.

"Lucifer was in your dreams, wasn't he?" Castiel searched his face and nodded when he saw the answering flicker of terror in Sam's eyes. "Does he know where you are now?"

Sam shook his head. "No. I don't think so. I didn't tell him."

The Angel took a deep breath. "Good."

"Follow the rails." Sam scowled into the dark. He retrieved his flashlight from the floor and shined it ahead. "He said follow the rails."

"I thought you said he didn't know where you are?" Castiel's eyes flicked around in the tunnel as though he expected Demons to begin materializing.

"He doesn't. He just knows it's a tunnel." Sam started off again. "Could be any subway in the country as far as he's concerned, Cas. Come on." He couldn't afford to dwell on Lucifer invading his dreams again or he'd end up a gibbering wreck in the corner, he was sure. He needed to find his brother.

"I don't like this." Cas remarked softly as he followed Sam.

Neither did Sam. Lucifer had healed him and sent him back to save his brother. His skin crawled with owing any sort of debt to the Devil but if it saved Dean… "This way." Sam turned the corner and led Castiel back into the subway tunnel itself. "Watch the rails."

Castiel didn't bother explaining to him that as an Angel, he saw in the dark as well as he did in the light; certainly better than Sam with his flashlight. "There are ghosts." He commented, feeling the weight of active souls pressing around him.

"We noticed." Sam retorted dryly.

"No, I mean…they're here." Castiel darted a hand out and grabbed Sam's elbow. He pulled him back a step as a spirit erupted out of the wall beside where he'd been standing.

"Cas! Shotgun!" Sam stumbled out of the way as Castiel raised the gun and pulled the trigger. The rock salt blew through the ghost, sending it away.

Castiel looked curiously at the gun with a small smile. "That was…very satisfying."

Sam gave a soft chuckle and started ahead again at a faster pace. His thoughts were all ahead somewhere with his brother. He felt a burning need to find him and knew something bad was happening. He wouldn't have been able to explain it if asked but he knew with certainty; Dean was in trouble. He hoped the sound of the shotgun hadn't alerted who or what had taken him.

"Why are there so many ghosts here?" Castiel asked, easily keeping pace with Sam at his elbow.

"They're victims of a serial killer." Sam told him. "Their bodies are down here somewhere."

"You think the ghosts have taken Dean?" Castiel hefted the shotgun and thought he would like to shoot more of them.

"I don't know. Something." Sam shook his head. "It wasn't a ghost that kicked my head in."

They ran into the darkness. Twice Castiel's night vision saved Sam from a tumble over rails set askew by time. The only sounds were the distant drip of water and Sam's breathing. The ghosts seemed to have realized they were dangerous and, for now at least, were leaving them alone.

"Sam." Castiel whispered and took his arm again, pulling him to a stop. "There's a light up ahead."

Sam flicked off the flashlight and tucked it into his jacket. "How far ahead? I can't see it."

"I can." Castiel took the lead and felt Sam take the back of his coat in the inky blackness. He went swiftly and silently and knew when Sam had finally spotted the light; his hand dropped away from Castiel's coat, no longer needing it. As they neared the small doorway of light they could hear someone chuckling and a strange sort of gasping sound. They drew even with the door and Castiel didn't wait. He entered the small room and took everything in in a glance; Dean strapped to a chair, his face red and straining even as his lips turned blue, wires running from his chair to a car battery behind him and a strange, old man laughing and rubbing his hands together as he watched.

Castiel said nothing as the man looked up at him in shock. He raised the shotgun and fired. The rock salt round took him in the chest and sent him flying back into the wall, leaving him gasping in agony on the floor. Castiel looked at the gun. "This is not as effective on humans."

"Dean!" Sam ran in behind him and went to his brother. He put a hand on Dean's chest and jerked it back with a short cry as the electricity arced to him. "Turn it off!"

Castiel went to the battery and tore the wires from its side. As he did so Dean gave a great gasp and then shouted hoarsely in pain as he slumped forward. He wheezed in air like a starving man.

"Dean?" Sam tipped his brother's face up. His lips were still disturbingly blue but he was breathing. He ripped the copper wires from around his chest as Castiel bent and started untying his arms. "Dean. Look at me."

Dean thought he heard his brother's voice but knew that couldn't be true. His whole world had shrunk to the current and the brief respites when he was allowed to breathe. He felt a hysterical giggle building inside him when he thought that Hell could have taken some tips from the Strangler on torture but it was stolen away when the current started again. The Strangler had laughed when smoke had begun to rise from Dean's clothes; the electricity drying the water. He had been especially amused by the ragged burns appearing on his chest and thanked him for giving him something new to try next time; wetting his victims. He strangled on the power, close to begging for another gasp of air as his chest constricted. His heart would surely be crushed soon, he thought and found he didn't mind that thought so much anymore except for…Sam.

"Dean! Look at me!"

Sam's voice again and this time Dean opened his eyes as the power cut off and he could breathe once more.

"Sammy?" Dean peered up at him through bleary eyes. "Izzat you? You ok?"

"Yeah, Dean it's me. I'm fine." Sam choked on tears for a moment and swallowed them back as they freed him. "You're ok. We're here."

"We?" Dean slumped forward into his brother as his arms were freed, unable to hold himself up. He was still wheezing in air and felt like he'd never get enough again.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel came around where Dean could see him and knelt to unbind his legs.

"Cas?" Dean let his head drop forward, unable to hold it up any longer. "Think…I'm gonna just…close my eyes for a sec."

"Dean?" Sam leaned him back as he went boneless to see his face. "Dean, wake up. Come on."

"Let him sleep." Castiel rose, having freed him and looked angrily down at the man still rolling on the floor, moaning. "I believe this is what wrath feels like."

"Leave him for the ghosts." Sam spared the Strangler only a murderous glance. "They may not have known he was here but I'll bet they followed us." He struggled to his feet, pulling Dean with him.

"Justice for his victims." Castiel nodded. "That is…acceptable." He could feel the souls gathering nearby and turned back to the brothers. "We need to go. Let me." Castiel took Dean's weight from his brother and easily put him over his shoulders in a fireman's carry.

Sam watched anxiously and checked Dean again before turning away; he was out cold, exhausted from his ordeal. He grabbed the shotgun from the floor and led the way out the door, fishing his flashlight out of his pocket as he went.

"I'll find you!" The Strangler shouted at them as they left him. "No one ever escapes me! I will find you!"

"I don't think so." Sam said softly as the temperature in the tunnel drop. A moment later he heard the Strangler scream and smiled a small smile of satisfaction.

"Hurry. They won't be distracted long with him." Castiel passed Sam, his night vision allowing him once more to see the way clearly.

They raced along the tunnel as fast as Castiel could go with Dean's weight. It was faster than Sam would have been and he was grateful the Angel had come when he'd called. Sam turned often to play the light along the tunnel behind them and growled when the first spirit appeared. It was the woman who had led them into the trap earlier. He fired into her, dissipating her and bent to hastily reload the gun.

"Keep going." He told Castiel, following behind as he shoved fresh rounds into the gun. Sam clicked the barrel closed in time to shoot a second ghost as it speared toward him from out of the darkness.

Castiel picked up his pace to put distance between danger and his burden. Dean was dead weight on his back. The explosive sound of the shotgun rang in the tunnel and in his ears. It sounded again and then Castiel slid to a stop as he felt the press of souls around them ease.

"Sam. I think they're gone." He turned back and stared in surprise. He was alone in the tunnel. "Sam?" Castiel couldn't see him, couldn't even hear him. It was as though he'd never been there except for the flashlight gleaming on the floor. The Angel stared at the empty tunnel unsure what to do. If he went after Sam with Dean in this condition, Sam would never forgive him if he got hurt yet if he left Sam behind to get Dean to safety, the older Winchester would conceivably hurt him. There was no way to win and he growled in frustration, the sound carrying down the tunnel.

"Why is nothing ever simple with a Winchester?" Castiel made up his mind and turned away, heading for where he'd first found Sam. He would get Dean out of the tunnels until he was awake and able to help. He jogged quickly through the blackness and found the side tunnel. He reached the arched wall and climbed through, carrying Dean awkwardly up the embankment to lay him down against a small retaining wall. He scowled and pulled Dean's shirt apart, the undershirt had been sliced open. Beneath the fabric were rough, ragged burn lines across his chest.

"I wish I could heal you." Castiel said quietly and looked up into the night sky at the stars winking above them; the moon hanging silently in the blackness. He pulled Dean's amulet from his pocket and studied it. It was such a small thing to pin such large hopes on. "There is no choice." He whispered. He looked again at the sleeping man and put the amulet away again. "I need you to wake up now, Dean." He put a hand to the side of Dean's face. He couldn't heal him but he could at least be sure he wasn't dying. He wasn't. Castiel could feel Dean's lifeforce, his soul, pulsing strongly and only wounded.

Dean groaned weakly and flinched away from the hand he felt on his face. He opened his eyes expecting the face of his tormentor and instead found Castiel staring down at him. "Cas." Dean raised a shaking hand to his chest. "Sam was here. Where's Sam?" He looked around, not seeing his brother and the look on the Angel's face did nothing to reassure him.

"I…lost him." Castiel admitted finally.

"You lost him?" Dean asked, his voice rising and he pushed himself up higher, gasping as it sent pain through his chest. "What do you mean 'lost'?"

"I believe the ghosts have taken him." Castiel watched Dean stare back at the arched windows in the tunnel as if he could see his brother through the miles of rock.

"Better be a damn good reason you left him in there." Dean growled and staggered to his feet. It was the slimmest thread of control that kept him from shoving off the hand Castiel put on his shoulder to steady him when he would have gone down to his knees.

"He told me to get you out." Castiel said simply. "Had I gone after him with you in this condition, there is every likelihood I would have found him only to lose you and suffered the same wrath from your brother." He shrugged and tried for a small smile. "I believe Bobby would say I was…screwed either way."

"Cas…dammit." Dean shook his head at the Angel. It irritated him that the Angel was right. "Ok, let's go. Where's my shotgun?"

Castiel sighed. "Sam was carrying it."

Dean growled again and turned to the embankment. A dark shadow in the corner drew his attention. He went over the side and ended up on his knees, his legs refusing to hold him. "Dammit." Castiel was instantly at his side and moved past him. He reached into the shadows and pulled the object out.

"Sam's bag." Dean said and reached for it. He pulled it open and took out a smaller, sawed-off shotgun they kept for backup. It would only hold two rounds at a time but it was all they had. "You carry this?" Dean handed the bag back and the Angel tossed it over his shoulder before grabbing Dean's arm and pulling him to his feet. "We're going after him."

"Of course we are." Castiel sighed and helped him back down through the window and into the tunnel. As if there was ever a choice about leaving his brother behind. Dean swayed as he walked and Castiel had to keep a hand at his shoulder to keep him upright. "Dean…"

"No, we're not waiting. We're not going and coming back. We're not leaving him in here with that psycho!" Dean ended on a shout and had to stop, breathing heavily through his burning his chest.

"I am fairly certain the ghosts of his victims have dealt with him." Castiel informed him. "They came as we were leaving with you. There was a very satisfying scream."

Dean looked over at him in surprise and smirked. "There's hope for you yet, Cas."

"Vengeance is not something Angels have ever had a problem with." Castiel said quietly and Dean let it go.

"I can't friggin see down here." Dean groaned as the moonlight was left behind them. He felt Castiel slide up under his left arm.

"I can see and Sam's flashlight is near. Lean on me." Castiel didn't wait for his agreement. He started them moving again and kept his senses alert for the spirits return. In less time than he expected they had reached the spot where Sam had vanished. Dean dropped to his knees and scooped Sam's still lit flashlight from the floor.

"Where'd they take him?" Dean turned the light on the Angel and saw him frown.

"I don't know. I didn't see it happen." Castiel held his hands out helplessly. "One moment he was here firing at the ghosts and the next he was gone."

"Son of a bitch." Dean turned and started into the tunnels. He felt Castiel come up beside him and silently admitted he was glad he was there. Dean stumbled again and again Castiel's hand was there on his shoulder to keep him upright. "Thanks, Cas." He said gruffly and quickened his pace. His brother was in there somewhere.

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Sam fired again as another ghost came out of the tunnel wall at him. He glanced over his shoulder, reassured that Castiel was far enough away with Dean. He looked back and gasped as a dozen spirits shot out of the walls to surround him. He felt himself picked up as all the air was sucked away from him. Sam swung out at the ethereal forms to no effect. He realized he still held the shotgun and pulled the trigger. The sharp report echoed and he was dropped to the ground. He gasped, panting and looked up but there was nothing to see in the blackness. It felt wrong to him somehow. He swung a hand across the floor beneath and frowned when his hand made no contact with the subway rails that should have been there. It felt bigger, wherever he was.

"Dean!" Sam shouted and his voice bounced back to him. "Castiel!"

He felt the temperature drop, his skin chilling with the touch. Sam tightened his grip around the stock of the shotgun and shouted in surprise as the spirits returned and lifted him, once more pulling the air away from him as they swirled about him. The Shotgun was torn out of his hands to clatter off into the darkness. He tried to call for help again but there was no air to do it and he couldn't stop it as his eyes closed and oblivion took him.

Sam jerked awake, a cry on his lips and opened his eyes. The darkness around him was complete and disorienting as he tried to see something; anything. He tipped his head back and found a wall behind him. When he tried to move he found his arms and legs wedged in to…something. He put his head forward and again it banged into brick. He could feel the rough edges against his forehead. The air was close, musty and a feeling of claustrophobia came over him.

"Dean!" Sam shouted as loudly as he could. He was walled in. The ghosts had buried him alive inside a wall. "Help! Castiel!" He tried to get his hand to his pocket and his phone but there was no room to move. His fingers brushed something soft beside him and he flinched but couldn't get away. "Hello?" He asked softly. The air froze again. A spirit appeared beside him and Sam looked down in horror at the desiccated remains of a body; it was the corpses sleeve resting against his hand. He looked to his other side and found yet another body and beyond that another in the pale light from the spirit. He had found the Strangler's victims.

"DEAN!"

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_To Be Continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

_**CHAPTER 5** _

"Dean. Stop, you need to rest." Castiel stopped him from stumbling to his knees again, as he had many times already and this time pulled Dean's arm over his shoulder. "We will find him."

"In time?" Dean asked miserably. He tried to pull his arm free from the Angel but to no avail.

"We will move faster if you let me help you." Castiel chastised him. "Be stubborn after we find your brother." Castiel tilted his head to the side suddenly, staring at nothing.

"Cass?" Dean watched him and the strange look on his face. "Not the time to remember your shopping list."

"I hear him." Castiel said and focused again on Dean's face. "His voice was very faint but I heard Sam. This way." He pulled Dean into a faster pace. He had heard Sam's voice calling out to his brother, to him. Whatever was happening, there was no mistaking the fear he had heard in those faint words. He didn't tell Dean. There was no need to burden the already injured, worried man. Instead he dragged Dean along beside him as fast as he could.

The tunnels passed behind them as they went. Dean was quickly lost, unable to keep the map in his head. He was tired down to his bones and his chest was a misery. He'd glanced quickly at the burned lines laid across his skin with the flashlight. He wished he hadn't looked; it hurt more once he'd seen them.

They travelled for what felt like miles of subway tunnel, once passing through another section with arches cut into the side. The moonlight filtered in to show the colorful graffiti covering the opposite wall but Dean paid it no mind.

"Can you still hear him?" Dean asked.

"No." Castiel felt Dean flinch and said nothing more.

Dean pulled his arm free from the Angel. "It's ok. I feel better now." Truthfully he still felt like crap but he wanted both arms free if the ghosts showed again or worse…if Castiel was wrong about the Strangler being taken care of.

They emerged from the tunnel into a large, round chamber. Dean shined the light up at the vaulted roof and around the walls, spotting a dark opening leading to another, smaller passage and the continuation of the subway across from them. "What is this?"

Castiel shrugged. He opened his mouth and then closed it. "Dean, wait." He said as the eldest Winchester had started for the far subway tunnel. "I hear…" Castiel whirled and sprinted for one of the far walls without finishing his sentence.

"What, Cass?" Dean called. There was desperation in every line of the Angel as he moved and Dean followed him as fear dropped into his stomach.

Castiel reached the wall and slammed both of his fists into the brick. He pulled away a chunk of rubble and dug his hands into the newly made hole as Dean came up beside him. Castiel gave a tremendous heave, growling out the strain and pulled the wall open.

"Sam!" Dean watched as the rubble showered down around the Angel's feet. Sam's head and chest fell forward into the light of Dean's flashlight. He was unmoving and pale. Dean let the shotgun fall and reached in for him. He laid a shaking hand on Sam's neck and pushed dark hair out of his eyes with the other. "Sam?"

"He's alive." Castiel assured him. He took Sam's right arm, Dean his left. Together they heaved and dragged all six feet four inches of dead weight through the hole and laid him gently on the stone floor. "I heard him breathing." The Angel frowned. "But he's stopped now. Dean…"

"No you don't, Sammy." Dean tilted his brother's head back. "Come on, Sam." He breathed for his brother, forcing air passed cold lips and into his lungs. The effort made his chest ache and he ignored it, silently urging Sam to breathe for himself. He grinned in relief when Sam suddenly coughed and gasped in a breath, eyes flying open in fear. Sam's hands reflexively gripped tight hold of Dean's arm. "That's my boy."

"Suffocation…sucks." Sam managed between heavy breaths. He looked up at the newly made hole and shuddered before looking back to Dean and sighed in relief, letting his eyes fall closed.

"Tell me about it." Dean pulled him up to lean against his knee, tightening his arm around Sam's shoulders as he felt him quake. He looked to Castiel and gave him a lopsided smile. "Thanks."

Castiel smiled in return and saw all the feeling packed into that simple word. He turned back to the hole he'd made. "We have found your burial site."

"The bodies…they're in there." Sam nodded. "In the walls." He looked around and frowned. "Flashlight?" Dean handed it to him and held Sam up as he took it with a shaking hand. He shined the light around the room and then shook his head. "This is the old Town Hall station. He buried…his victims right…right under their noses."

"Hope they tore him to pieces." Dean said fiercely. "You ok?"

Sam nodded, swallowing loudly. "Yeah. Just…"

"Need to sleep for a year." Dean smiled at him and then looked over at the broken wall. "We'll come back tomorrow and finish this."

Sam groaned and sagged against Dean's arm. He could feel a myriad of bumps and bruises making themselves known and he still breathed hard as though he'd been running a race. He had no energy left to even stand on his own. "Hell of a long way back to the car."

Castiel leaned down and gripped both their shoulders. There were still some things he _could_ do.

"Cass, you rock." Dean grinned as he looked up and found they were sitting beside the Impala. "Come on, sasquatch." Castiel took Sam's arm and helped Dean pull him up, supporting him while Dean opened the door. Sam folded into the passenger seat and groaned in relief.

"You coming, Cass?" Dean asked him, taking the bag the Angel handed him.

"No. I must get back to my search." Castiel managed a small smile.

Dean sighed and nodded. "Good…" Castiel was suddenly gone in a soft flutter of wings. "Luck. I hate it when he does that."

"That's probably why he does it." Sam said tiredly from the seat.

Dean shut the door on his smirk and stumbled around to the driver's side. "You look like crap." He told Sam as he got in and started the engine.

Sam chuckled. "You're not exactly a picture of loveliness yourself."

"Bite me, Sammy." Dean glared over at him as he pulled out onto the street but couldn't help the hand that reached across to rest at the back of Sam's neck as his brother rolled his head into the window. They'd come far too close to losing each other for good.

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Dean woke to the sound of his name being muttered. He looked over and sighed; his brother was thrashing in his sleep and wrapped in his blankets. He groaned, bracing a hand over his aching chest and rolled off the bed, turning on the light.

"Sam." Dean shook his shoulder and jerked his head back as Sam flailed an arm out. Dean grabbed it and held on. "Whoa! Whoa!" He waited for Sam's eyes to open and find him, his breathing to slow. "You good?"

Sam nodded shakily. He pushed himself up and kicked off the covers that had wrapped around his legs. In his sleep he'd thought he was back inside the wall suffocating alone. "Sorry." He said, embarrassed.

Dean snorted and went back to his own bed. "You think I haven't woken up twice already?" He rubbed a hand across his still aching chest. "Wish he could die twice."

Sam swung his legs to the floor. "Well I'm up. Shower." He grinned as his brother groaned and went into the bathroom.

"Don't use all the hot water!" Dean shouted after him but held little hope of more than a lukewarm shower. He dove for his jeans at the foot of his bed when his phone started ringing. "Hello?" He said as he fumbled it open.

"You ever plannin' on callin' me and letting me know how the job went?" Bobby growled at him.

Dean smiled. "Gonna start thinking you care you keep checking up on us."

"Shut it, smart-ass." Bobby rolled his eyes. "So?"

Dean chuckled and filled told him all that had happened the night before. "Ok." Bobby sighed "I'm a little less pissed at Angel boy now."

"Bobby…"

"I know Dean." Bobby cut him off gruffly. "He'd fix my legs if he could." He still didn't sound as if he entirely believed that but Dean let it slide.

"We're going back in tonight, now we know where the bodies and take care of them." Dean got up and banged on the bathroom door. He could still hear the water running. "Hurry it up princess!"

Bobby snorted. "Usin' all the hot water on ya, again?"

"What do you think?" Dean banged on the door again when he heard Sam laughing.

"Maybe you need to stop gettin' so much beauty sleep." Bobby laughed when he heard Dean's angry growl.

"Good bye Bobby." Dean said pointedly into the phone over the older man's laughter and hung up.

"Obviously you need coffee." Sam said, smiling in good humor as he opened the bathroom and raised a brow at the small dent in the door.

"Well then you better get me some while I take a cold damn shower." Dean groused and went past him, pulling the door shut firmly. Sam chuckled and started pulling fresh clothes out of his bag.

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"We're not eating here." Sam said as they walked into the restaurant and saw the long grill behind the counter. "No, really. You're kidding." The grill was a good six feet long and covered in eggs, home fries, hot dogs, burgers and all covered in a patina of grease.

Dean laughed and elbowed his side. "Welcome to Nick Tahoe's, Sammy." He eyed the greasy food on the grill with avarice. "Best damn restaurant anywhere."

"If you say so." Sam sighed. "Do they have salads?"

"Don't say that so loud!" Dean hushed him. "Go find a table. I'll order."

"Oh man." Sam shook his head but left Dean standing in line. When he got in one of these moods there was no reasoning with him. He'd just have to pick the least inedible of whatever Dean brought him. He found a table by the window and slid into the chair. He had to admit that despite the appearance of the grill, the over-all smell was making his mouth water.

Dean made his way over a few minutes later and slid a tray onto the table. Sam looked at the contents in fear. "Sam, meet the Garbage plate. Garbage plate. Sam." Dean plopped into the chair opposite him and grinned.

"Well, the name certainly fits." Sam commented as Dean slid one of the plates off in front of him. There was a pile of home fries, another of macaroni, baked beans and on top a white hot dog split down the middle and a hamburger patty. Covering all of it was a greasy sort of meat sauce.

"Trust me, Sammy." Dean handed him a fork. "What you are looking at is Nirvana on a plate." He took a bite of his own and moaned in a way that had the woman at the next table staring at him and Sam was almost certain she drooled.

"Only live once I guess." Sam shrugged, resigned and loaded his fork with a bit of everything. He ate it and spent a minute just staring at the aptly named garbage plate. The ridiculous combination of foods was having a sort of war in his mouth and, to his surprise; he realized the taste was amazing. "Holy crap."

"Mmf." Dean smiled around his fork. "Even better when you're drunk or hung-over."

"This is so…wrong." Sam said as he took another bite and smiled. "Why does this work?"

Dean shrugged. "No idea." He loved how sometimes a good plate of food could shift your world back into place if only for a little while. The end of the world loomed over them but for a few minutes he could set it all aside and just…be. Even the burns across his chest seemed to hurt less and he smiled.

"I know I'm going to regret eating this later but…" Sam smiled down at the plate. "Just this once you were right."

Dean laughed and pushed the bottle of hot sauce toward him. "Add some of that. Even better."

They ate companionably, letting the noise and jumble of the busy restaurant wash around them and soothe away the stresses of the night before with normalcy.

"How is it?" Sam asked suddenly, seeing his brother rub a hand absently across his chest.

Dean dropped it quickly and rolled his eyes. "Like I got grilled."

Sam grimaced. "Sorry." He pushed his empty plate back. "I'm not moving for a month." He stretched and groaned. "Roll me out to the car."

Dean chuckled and mopped the last of the meat sauce from his plate. "You can work it off breaking walls apart."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Fantastic." He rose with his brother and followed him outside. This time they weren't going to slog through miles of tunnel. Sam had checked and found there was still an open entrance in the basement of the Town Hall that would lead them directly to the old station and the bodies. "Think it's late enough?"

"Dude. They're civil servants and it's after five." Dean grinned. It was actually closer to eight. "We'll have the place to ourselves."

The climbed into the Impala with groans for their over-stuffed stomachs. Dean leaned back in the seat and rubbed a hand over his with a laugh. "Maybe should have waited til after the salt and burn for Tahoe's."

Sam smirked as Dean revved the engine and got them moving. "You're not gonna be swinging the hammer anyway, not with that chest." He said it laughingly but he meant it. Dean was clearly still not moving well; there was no way he was letting him swing a sledge hammer and tear the burns open. "You're on salt and burn duty."

Dean rolled his eyes and shrugged. "You wanna do all the hard labor, who am I to argue?"

They drove through the quickly darkening night and pulled up down the street from the Town Hall. As they'd hoped, the parking lot was empty but for a single car no doubt belonging to a security guard. They grabbed the sledge hammer and duffel from the trunk and jogged to the back of the building. Sam knelt at the secluded back entrance and quickly picked the lock, letting them in.

"Straight down this hall, third right and downstairs." Sam whispered and let Dean take the lead. They went quickly through the building and down into the basement. Silence followed them and they lucked out not crossing paths with the security guard. Sam took Dean's shoulder and steered him toward the back of the long, dark room filled with filing cabinets and toward a small door partially hidden behind a shelf. "That's it."

They pulled the shelf forward and left it so it would block the view of the door and not look out of place if anyone came looking. They pried the bar off the door and eased it open. Dean grimaced at the loud squeal of old, rusted metal as it moved.

"Quick. If he heard that…" Dean gave Sam a shove through the door into the darkness and followed, pushing it shut behind them. "Cross your fingers he doesn't come looking."

"He's probably asleep at a desk somewhere." Sam laughed and switched on his flashlight, cutting through the gloom. They were in a narrow stairwell that wound down. "Too bad the street entrance was filled in decades ago."

Dean nodded and kept close to Sam's back. He pulled the EMF meter from his pocket and switched it on. The red lights climbed as it whined and he snorted, turning it off and putting it away. "Shocker." He hefted his shotgun. Sam would be doing all the heavy work but he'd be watching his back; keeping the spirits off of him while he opened up the walls.

He bumped into Sam at the bottom of the stairs. "Sammy?"

"Sorry." Sam stepped out of the door and into the old station. The beam from his light had hit the hole where he'd been buried the day before and froze him for a moment in remembered terror. He shook it off and focused on the job and Dean's steady presence at his side instead.

Dean frowned, seeing what had stopped him. "Got your back, Sam." Dean reminded him and saw Sam's shoulders loosen and he nodded. "Let's get these lights up." He set the duffel bag on the floor and bent, opening it. He pulled out the first camping lamp and handed it to his brother. A minute later the old station was lit by the solid blue glow of the camp lights and Sam hefted the sledge hammer at the wall beside the hole Castiel had torn.

A half an hour later they had four bodies laid out on the stone floor. In spite of the chill in tunnels, Sam had stripped down to his t-shirt. The drying sweat around his neck and under his arms was giving him chills even as he sweated and took another swing at the aging bricks. The ghosts had yet to attack but they were near. Ever so often Dean would pull out the EMF and listen to it whine for a second before putting it away. They had decided to unearth all the bodies before salting and burning them. Once the ghosts realized what was happening they likely wouldn't be left alone anymore.

"How many ghosts did we see?" Dean asked as he paced past Sam toward the far tunnel.

"At least a dozen." Sam stopped and wiped sweat off his brow, letting the sledge hammer rest on the floor. He looked into the opening he'd made. "Two more here." He reached in and pulled a pile of bricks loose, tumbling them to the floor. Dean was peering in at the far tunnel.

"Think we got visitors, Sammy." Dean called over his shoulder.

Sam jerked his head out of the hole and looked over. Dean was backing slowly away from the tunnel mouth with his gun leveled. "Took them long enough to figure it out." He said ruefully. He set the hammer down and bent to pick up his shotgun. He heard something scuff on the floor behind him and turned too late as a steely arm wrapped around his neck and dragged him backwards.

"Dean!" Sam shouted a warning. He started to turn and grab his attacker when a large knife flashed in front of his face before coming to rest at his throat. He froze as he felt metal tug against his skin.

"You son of a bitch!" Dean stalked towards them. "Let him go!"

"Stay back!" Tim's voice bellowed in Sam's ear and he flinched in surprise.

"Drop it!" Tim yelled again. "Drop it or I drop him."

Dean glared but bent and set the shotgun on the ground, unwilling to toy with his brother's life while a madman had a knife to his throat. "Let him go." He met Sam's eyes and though they were wide, they were steady. He gave Dean a short nod to say he was alright.

"Look, I don't want you. Just back off." Tim backed away another step, pulling Sam with him. He hadn't believed his good fortune when he'd come down the tunnel, following the light and noise and found both men with their backs to him.

"Too bad. You've got me." Dean stared fiercely at him and itched to have his gun in his hand. "You gotta know enough about me to know what happens to idiots who hurt my brother." He gave him a dangerous smile. "So, how big an idiot are you?"

"Shut up! Just shut up!" Tim shouted and backed a few more paces, dragging Sam with him. The knife bit into the skin under his chin and sliced into him, forcing Sam's head back on a small gasp. "He owes me. Stop MOVING!"

Dean took another step. There was no way he was letting him leave with Sam. A stream of blood crept down Sam's neck from under the blade and Dean growled, taking two more steps to close the distance.

"I'll kill him right here!" Tim warned.

Sam felt the pressure of the blade ease just slightly and made his move. He grabbed Tim's wrist and twisted viciously. He heard bone snap as Tim screamed and threw himself forward and away from him. Dean grabbed his arms, pushing him aside but before he could reach Tim a mist formed quickly behind the man. In seconds it formed and the face of the Strangler grinned at them as he wrapped ghostly arms around Tim's chest. Tim's head tipped back as his body jerked, mouth open in a silent scream as the ghostly current seized the muscles in his chest; robbing him of air. Even in death the Strangler didn't give up on his methods.

"Dean." Sam gasped and grabbed his shoulder.

"What?" Dean watched the other Hunter as he suffered and began to falter, the knife falling from his fingers to clatter on the ground.

"We can't just…"

"Yes we can." Dean said firmly. Watching Tim die wasn't bothering him. It was deserved in his mind.

"Dean, come on." Sam pleaded.

Dean growled but Sam was right. He dove for the floor and his shotgun, raised it and emptied the barrels into the Strangler's smiling face. If some of the rock salt happened to hit Tim in the chest well…it wouldn't kill him but it would sure hurt. Tim sucked in a breath as the ghost was forced to dissipate. He screamed out his pain and crumpled to the ground in a heap, unconscious. As the Strangler's ghost vanished, the other spirits appeared in a circle around the three men.

"Oh crap." Dean breathed and then stared as they all, as one, turned and pointed to a section of the wall Sam hadn't reached yet. "I'll be damned."

"They _want_ us to gank him." Sam looked sadly at them. He recovered his sledge hammer and walked cautiously past the parade of souls. They let him pass, one by one winking out until only a woman remained; the woman who had earlier led them astray. She gave a soft, sad smile to Sam before vanishing with the others. "I think she's sorry."

"I'm touched." Dean said and rolled his eyes. He had little patience for anyone…or anything that tried to kill them. He kept the shotgun handy in case the ghosts changed their minds and drew the Desert Eagle pistol from his back, leveling it at Tim where he lay on the floor.

Sam leaned back and swung the sledge hammer into the brick. It took several blows and finally they could see the Strangler's dead eyes in the glow from their work lights. "Gotcha." Sam glared at the body. Even in death he still looked menacing. He swung into the wall a few more times, widening the gap and then set the hammer down to reach in. As he did the Strangler's spirit appeared over top his own body. The ghost screamed and launched out of the wall at Sam. He felt the Strangler's ethereal hands brush his face, felt the shadow of an electric current pass through him and take his legs out from under him and then the grateful sound of the shotgun firing and the spirit was gone with another scream.

"Sam." Dean was beside him and pulled him up. "Take this." He shoved the shotgun into his brother's hands and leaned him up against the wall. Dean dashed back to the duffel and pulled out a canister of salt and the lighter fluid. He ran back to the hole and poured salt over the corpse. He tossed the canister behind him and started dousing the dead man in lighter fluid. Dean jumped when Sam fired the shotgun beside him.

"Keep going." Sam told him. He wanted the bastard gone. He splayed his legs to keep him standing.

Dean dug his zippo out of his pocket, lit it and tossed it into the wall with a grim smile. "Rot in hell you son of a bitch." The flames erupted, consuming the body. He backed hastily away and pulled Sam with him as the flames spread from the Strangler's corpse into the walls on either side.

"Uh…not good." Sam said, worried as smoke began to billow out of the hole.

"Guess we don't need to dig out the rest of them." Dean said and scrubbed a hand through his hair. He glanced over at Tim, still on the floor, unconscious and retrieved the salt and lighter fluid. He quickly covered the four bodies they had removed and set them alight as well. "Time to go."

"What about him?" Sam asked as Dean hastily piled Camp lanterns and gear back into the duffel bag.

"What about him?" Dean stood and shouldered the bag. "We saved him from the ghost. Up to him whether he gets his sorry ass out of here in time."

Sam spent another moment looking at Tim and then shook his head. He turned away and took the lantern Dean handed him. "We need to get out of here before the smoke filters up and sets off the fire alarms in the Town Hall."

"Let's move then." Dean headed for the stairs and tucked his gun behind his back with a sigh. He still had the need to go over and finish Tim; end the threat he posed but he knew Sam would never let him and he wasn't sure he'd live with himself if he did murder the guy. Instead he pulled Sam's arm over his shoulders and turned his back on Tim the idiot.

They fled up the stairs and through the squealing door, the smoke following them. As they emerged from the back of the building the fire alarms blared to life and they ran down the street to the Impala, grateful no one was out walking on such a cold night. Dean tossed Sam's jacket to his shivering brother as they got in the car and gunned the engine to get them away before someone noticed them.

At the hotel, Sam ducked his head as they passed the front desk and hid the blood he knew was on his neck and down the front of his shirt. He could still feel it oozing and shuddered at how close Tim had come to slitting his throat. Dean kept a hand on his back, nodding to the desk and steered him toward the elevator.

"Come here." Dean said as the elevator doors closed on them. He grabbed Sam's face and turned it up to get a look at his neck. "Let me see."

"Dean, it's fine." Sam tried to pull away but Dean held him firm.

Blood still flowed from the cut; had covered the front of his shirt in fact. It was deep and probably needed a few stitches to close properly but not deep enough and Dean sighed, relieved. "You were lucky." He let Sam's face go with a light slap. "Another half an inch and you'd be smiling for good. What the hell were you thinking grabbing his arm while the damn knife was at your throat?"

Sam rolled his eyes and pressed his hand back against the cut. "I was thinking I didn't want him grabbing the gun I could feel tucked in the front of his shirt and shooting my big brother who wouldn't stop antagonizing him."

"Oh." Dean ran a hand through his hair and smiled sheepishly.

"Oh." Sam repeated with a lop-sided smile.

"You sure it was his gun?" Dean asked and smirked. He ducked the punch Sam threw at him.

"Dude!" Sam gave him a bitch face. "I need brain bleach now."

Dean laughed as the doors opened and shoved Sam out ahead of him, keeping a hold on his arm when he would have stumbled. "You need a garbage plate."

"Twice in one day?" Sam groaned. "Pretty sure I already listened to my arteries harden enough for one day."

"Woos." Dean opened the room door and followed him in. "You know you love the plate."

Sam laughed. "You make it sound like it has magical properties."

"Who says it doesn't?" Dean pulled the first aid kit from the bag by his bed and pushed Sam down into a chair. "I get done sewing your neck back together we should test it. Make sure nothing comes out where it shouldn't."

"Ok, that just sounded wrong." Sam rolled his eyes as Dean pushed his head back and started cleaning the cut. He might have argued he could stitch it up himself but sitting felt so good, he didn't want to move.

"Getcher brain out of the gutter, Sammy." Dean chuckled and winced in sympathy at Sam's pained hiss as he pressed an alcohol pad against the open wound.

"MY brain?" Sam asked and laughed again at the ridiculous accusation. "This coming from the gutter brain king."

"Watch it or I'll get creative with these stitches." Dean warned him. He easily batted Sam's hand away from his head. "Sit still." He took out the bottle of whiskey he kept in the first aid kit and handed it to Sam. "Pain killer."

Sam snorted but took a healthy gulp, swallowing the burning heat and scrunching his eyes shut as the movement made his neck hurt. "You ever notice every damn thing goes for my neck?"

Dean let out a startled laugh and threaded the suture needle while Sam took another drink. "I'm not the only one who thinks you should shut up more often. Geek." He tilted Sam's head back again and slid the needle through, creating the first stitch. Sam kept his flinch as small as he could and Dean nodded, appreciative as he made the second.

"You were right." Sam said suddenly as Dean made the third stitch.

"I'm always right." Dean replied. "What about this time?"

Sam rolled his eyes at the response. "Tim. Should have let the Strangler kill him. He's just one more thing we have to worry about now. I'm sorry."

Dean took his chin and forced his head down so he could look his brother in the eye. "Don't you dare apologize for that bastard." He growled. "Yes I wanted him dead but you were right. We're better than that. We're not murderers." He waited for Sam's nod and then pushed his head back again. "But that was his last reprieve. He comes after you again…" Dean tied off the third stitch and started the last. "He won't walk away." He quickly made the fourth stitch and cleaned the cut again before letting Sam lower his head.

"Lot a things are your fault right now, Sam." Dean said seriously. "Hell, some of 'em are my fault but that sorry son of a bitch is not on either of our lists. You got that?"

Sam nodded and blinked away the moisture that sprung up in his eyes. "Yeah." He nodded; his voice gruff with emotion.

"Good." Dean took the whiskey bottle and drank from it. "Now, that waitress in Santa Fe? Totally your fault."

"What?" Sam laughed and tossed the bloody rag at his head. "She was _so_ your fault."

"Didn't end up in _my_ bed." Dean shrugged and headed for the bathroom.

"Cause you were falling down drunk and crawled into mine by mistake you idiot!" Sam shouted as the door closed on his brother's laughter. "What the hell was she supposed to think?"

Dean stuck his head back out the door. "Hope you like cold showers, Sammy." He shut the door on Sam's irritated growl and chuckled. He glanced up at the ceiling and silently thanked Castiel for bailing them out; grateful for the bad-tempered cushion he heard hit the bathroom door and thought just maybe they would make it out of the apocalypse alive as long as they were together. He stripped and climbed into the shower, turning his still burned chest away from the hot spray and didn't hear his little brother sneak in nor see the hand that reached for the toilet handle with a soft chuckle.

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_The End._


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